


On The Dangers Of Horseplay

by doomedship



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: Challenge fic, F/M, Fluff, twelve days of sanditon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomedship/pseuds/doomedship
Summary: It's winter in Sanditon, and a day out with the children goes awry. Written for the Twelve Days of Sanditon prompt challenge, 'Snow'.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 162





	On The Dangers Of Horseplay

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually do fluff and no angst, but we can probably use a nice cuddly fic. It's Christmas. Regular programming to resume shortly.

They all head out in the snow with a flamboyant disregard for the elements.  
  
The children are clamouring to play, to visit the frozen pond and build snowmen on the fresh-fallen snow, and each of them knowsTom can never bear to deny them anything. So he persuades Mary, Charlotte and Sidney to join him on a family trip out to the woods where the pond is hidden.  
  
It is bitterly cold and the children are wrapped in so many furs they look like little fat squirrels darting about, but their giggles and shrieks of delight go a long way to defeating any reservations Charlotte has about the wisdom of the excursion.  
  
She and Sidney walk arm in arm in front of Tom and Mary, and she smiles up at him when he covers her hand in his elbow with his own, stroking gently with his thumb on the back of her hand. And suddenly, the snow is not the only reason she shivers.  
  
Eight weeks of marriage, and she is still always longing for him.  
  
He catches her eye and she knows he knows exactly where her thoughts lie, and his answering suggestive smile makes her laugh and shake her head at him.  
  
"Watch that lascivious mind, Mr Parker," she whispers. His roguish smile doesn't drop as he leans over to murmur in her ear.  
  
"If you're not thinking about what we got up to last night, then I'm the Prince Regent.”  
  
She blushes before she schools her face into a prim and proper expression.  
  
"I can't think what you mean," she says, but she subtly runs her fingernails over the delicate skin of his palm as she speaks, and she hears the muttered curse under his breath as he glances back to Tom and Mary, before shooting her a heated look.  
  
"Later," he murmurs. "I intend to have you every which way."  
  
She merely smiles demurely with a challenge and an invitation flashing in her darkened eyes.  
  
They're distracted then, by a delighted squeal from the children. They've found the frozen pond, it seems, and are marvelling at the crystalline beauty that stretches out into the woods like a painting straight out of a fairytale.  
  
With the fresh falling snow, Charlotte has to admit she's scarcely seen a more enchanting view.  
  
Before long, Tom is gambolling with the youngsters, laughing and urging them on. He shows them how they might slide on the ice, and growing bolder, Jenny twirls about like a ballerina, and soon Sidney joins them while Mary claps from the side.  
  
And nobody spots Henry venturing out further than he ought.  
  
He slips and slides out like a newborn deer while his parents and uncle are distracted by Jenny's antics, drawn in by the translucent shine of the ice in the very middle of the pond.  
  
Charlotte spots him and gasps.  
  
"Henry, no!" she cries suddenly. Sidney, Mary and Tom whirl around, but they're too far from him to do anything. She's closest, and she doesn't even think before she steps out towards Henry on unsteady feet.  
  
She's still three feet away when he disappears right through the ice, the thin shards splintering under his little feet with a sickening crunch.  
  
Somewhere, Mary screams.  
  
Charlotte rushes out, throws herself to her belly, the cold, wet ice chilling her to the bone but she ignores the sting as her hand goes under the water, reaches for any bit of Henry that she can find. He's flailing, bobbing around, and she manages to grab the back of his coat and keeps him firmly afloat.  
  
"No, don't!" she shouts, seeing Sidney taking determined steps towards them. "Stay there, the ice won't hold!"  
  
He obeys, but she sees the fear and the urgency in his face.  
  
With an almighty heave Charlotte drags Henry's waterlogged body out of the water, sending them both sprawling onto the ice. Bits around the hole his body made break away, and the gap is yawning wider.

Henry is shivering uncontrollably but she can't risk carrying him, not with the growing splinters and the ominous cracking of ice crystals under every step.  
  
"Henry, go to your uncle Sidney, please," Charlotte says desperately, still crouched on the ice for fear of moving a muscle. "Go on, that's it."  
  
Henry manages to half walk, half crawl on shaking little legs until Sidney clutches him up into his arms safely, running him over the thicker ice straight to Mary, who's weeping as she takes the boy up in her embrace.  
  
Then Sidney comes back as far as he dares.  
  
"Charlotte, crawl towards me, slowly," he calls to her, his hands tightly clenched at his sides. She can see his eyes bright with fear.  
  
She does as he says, shifting tiny movements towards him on her hands and knees, but all the way she can feel the thin ice splintering further.  
  
And then suddenly, a crack runs all the way through from the gaping hole to where she is, and there's no more ice below her. And all she can feel is the most incredible, bitter cold, subsuming her, swallowing her whole and sending her entire body into immoveable shock.  
  
She's halfway under before the daze passes enough for her limbs to start working again, and her lungs heave in huge gasps of air. She fights against the drag of her billowing clothes and scrabbles for purchase on the edge of the remaining ice, but it's so thin already it comes away in her hands.  
  
The only option is to push through to where the ice is thicker.

To reach where Sidney stands.  
  
To where he’s desperately shouting her name, and edging dangerously towards her. She wants to scream at him to stay back, that it'll be all the worse if he comes in too. But she can't breathe; the cold has stolen all the air from her, and she's struggling to move at all.  
  
With every reserve of energy she has she kicks with frantic desperation, half dragging herself through the water, and _finally_ her clumsy fingers hit far more solid ice that doesn't break away, and she can hear Sidney shouting much more clearly now, though her ears are ringing and her face aches with the agonising cold.  
  
"Charlotte!" he's yelling, and then her heart leaps when she feels it.  
  
The blessedly firm grasp of his hand around her wrist, pulling her further out of the water though the sucking weight of her soaked clothes threatens to drag her right back in.  
  
He seizes her under the arms and pulls them both sprawling back onto the solid ice and then right off into the snowy grass on the edge of the pond where she lies, blinking dazedly, unable to move a muscle.  
  
She feels so numb she can barely even feel her teeth chattering.  
  
"Charlotte, Charlotte," he's saying, scrambling over to her and grasping her face in his own cold hands. She's dimly aware of Tom and Mary, panicking, flustering, but she feels like she's witnessing it all from somewhere up in the misty sky, and she can't focus on anything except Sidney's face drifting in and out of her view.  
  
Dimly, she watches the snowflakes still landing in his hair.  
  
He's moving her, she's not sure why, can't work out what he wants, but then he's snapping at Tom to turn around and gesturing for Mary to help him.  
  
Then he drags her soaking wet coat from her, throwing it aside, along with her sodden boots and stockings.  
  
And then he's ripping her dress and shift right down the middle, not a care given for the ties. Which she thinks, vaguely, sounds like a scene from one of her more scandalous fantasies, but it's nothing at all like what she's imagined. She can barely feel a thing as the wet fabric is dragged entirely off her body and she finds she can muster no shame at being so exposed in front of Mary when she's so cold she thinks she'll die of it.  
  
But in a flash he's wrapping her in Mary's shawl and cloak and his own heavy coat, and then he's scooping her up into his arms and barking at Tom to carry Henry, and then he tells Jenny to run as fast as she can to the house to tell the servants to get hot water, hot towels, hot _everything_ prepared.  
  
And Charlotte shivers and shivers and closes her eyes.  
  
"Charlotte, no, don't close your eyes, my love, not yet," he says quickly, and she drags her eyes open reluctantly. "Almost there, sweetheart, we will get you warm in no time."  
  
His voice is shaky, she thinks. She is not used to hearing him afraid.  
  
"I'm all right," she murmurs, willing her clouded thoughts to cooperate and find some way to comfort him.  
  
He grips her tighter against his chest and walks even faster through the woods. She fights to keep her focus, but her eyes are flickering shut by the time they make it to Trafalgar House and she barely registers the thud of the door, the bell, the servants running.

There's a kerfuffle in the hallway, Tom talking too much and Mary fussing about Henry and getting him straight into bed, but Sidney ignores it all.

He carries her straight to the upstairs bedroom they've been staying in and sets her down on the bedspreadwhere his hands fly to her face, her wrist, checking her pulse and her eyes, asking her to focus on him. She looks up at him and studies the familiar planes of his face.  
  
The warm room hurts, feels like burning needles on her skin, and her brow furrows against the sensation as she grits her teeth so as to keep from making a sound. She struggles weakly to clutch her own limbs in her hands.  
  
"I know, sweetheart, it'll be over soon," Sidney murmurs, and he's quickly taking all the damp borrowed clothes off her and dumping them aside so he can slide her bare body under the blankets and into the sheets which have been gently warmed for her. She cringes at the sudden sensation, doesn't know if it's bliss or hell to feel something other than the icy chill as her fingers and toes begin to throb with the heat under the sheets.  
  
Mary's in the room in the next moment, checking on her, asking Sidney too many questions. "Shouldn't she have a bath? Or sit by the fire perhaps?" she says worriedly, stroking Charlotte’s damp hair.  
  
"No," Sidney replies shortly, his concern making him abrupt. "Not yet. We must warm her slowly."  
  
"How is Henry?" Charlotte asks weakly.  
  
"Oh my dear, he is fine, entirely thanks to you," Mary says, pressing her hand to Charlotte's cheek. "You were quite remarkable."  
  
She smiles wanly. A little feeling is returning to her body, and her eyes flick back to Sidney, who's hovering anxiously by the bed looking like he wants to keep a hand on her body at all times to make sure she's still alive, still breathing, but he has to hold back while Mary’s here.  
  
To her credit, Mary seems to sense the need for privacy, palpable as it is, and takes her leave with a last kiss to Charlotte's cheek and a promise to return soon.

Sidney replaces Mary at once by the bedside, sitting in a hard backed chair as he rests his hand gently against her face.  
  
"You gave me quite the scare," he says, leaning in to kiss her cold lips. "My dearest, bravest Charlotte."  
  
"I _am_ sorry," she says weakly. "I didn't mean to cause such a stir."  
  
"I believe you averted a far greater one, so can hardly be blamed for your daring," he says, and he inspects her face closely. "You are regaining colour to your cheeks. That's a very good sign," he says, and she can feel the relief radiating from him.  
  
"I am feeling a bit better," she says, flexing her fingers experimentally.  
  
"I'll send for a bath after you have warmed up enough to tolerate the heat," he says, brow still furrowed. He reaches under the covers to feel her hand, and tuts at the lingering chill. He places her hand between both of his and gently rubs, his own hands beautifully warm and comforting.  
  
She studies him through half lidded eyes, his gentle gaze and the firm line of his jaw, and smiles to herself to think that even now, even in such circumstances, she's thinking about how much she wants to feel him right there next to her.  
  
"Your shirt is wet," she suddenly realises, as her eye starts to wander his body. "You will catch a chill, Sidney," she scolds, making as if to sit up. He quickly intercepts and nudges her back down against her pillow with a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Stay there," he says firmly. "I will change."  
  
"Or you could leave that shirt with those other clothes and join me in here," she suggests impishly. His serious expression cracks and he lets out a breath of laughter, pauses for a moment, and to her surprise he stands, starts unbuttoning and unlacing everything, and slides into the bed behind her, his bare skin right on hers from chest to toe.  
  
"You're right," he says, kissing her shoulder. "This is a perfectly effective way to warm you up. I don't know why I didn't think of it."  
  
She laughs and wriggles her body back against him, seeking out the heat radiating from him.  
  
"I have all sorts of good ideas," she murmurs, and he gives a low grunt as her backside makes contact with vital parts of him.  
  
"That," he mutters, brushing her ear with his lips. "Is undeniable. But I'm afraid I will deny you until I am certain you have stopped shivering."  
  
She huffs slightly, though in truth she is more than content to just lie there in his arms, the warmth of him surrounding her. It is a blissful contrast to the cold that's finally starting to relent and she feels her eyelids start to droop, though she's trying to stay awake.  
  
She's only partly successful though, and jolts awake not much later, her mind suddenly terrified that she's under the freezing water again, and realised she must have dropped into a shallow sleep when she finds herself thrashing in confusion. Sidney starts, his hands reaching for her quickly and holding her tight.  
  
"Charlotte?" he says worriedly, turning her over to face him. She blinks dazedly at him.  
  
"Sorry," she murmurs. "My mind must still be thinking about the pond."  
  
"I am not surprised," Sidney says, bringing her close to his chest. He kisses her hair and rubs slow circles on her back, and she winds her arms around his neck. He lets out a long exhale.

"Come. Perhaps now would be a suitable time for that bath," he says, and she can't deny the thought of a hot bath is comforting, though she's loathe to leave his embrace.  
  
He settles her in bed with a blanket up to her chin whilst he searches for scant clothes to wear before summoning a servant to bring in the tub. It takes a while to be prepared, but a sweet aroma of lavender wafts through the room when it's ready and Charlotte finds herself pleasantly lulled as he crosses the room in a few strides and carefully lifts her from the bed.  
  
She is beneath the blessedly hot water moments later, and gives a long sigh of pleasure as it starts to warm her to the core like sunlight chasing away the mist. He sits on a low stool next to her and leans his forearms on the edge of the tub, watching closely, and she smiles up at him.  
  
"If only this tub were big enough for two," she murmurs, reaching for his cheek, and he laughs.  
  
"I will have to consider acquiring such a tub for us in future," he says, and leans in to kiss her softly. "I am so very glad you're all right."  
  
"As am I," she replies, and pulls him closer to kiss him fiercely, like a brush with disaster has made it all the more important to love him every way she knows how, before fate can step in and force another twist in their tale.  
  
They're both breathing hard when she finally lets him go and settles back into the water, and his eyes flicker shut for a moment as he sits back and adjusts the haphazardly fastened fall of his breeches with a reproving glance at her. "I see you are set on your campaign to test my infamous resolve," he says, and she grins lazily up at him.  
  
"Certainly not, sir, I am denying you nothing," she comments, raising an eyebrow as his eyes drop down her body, scarcely concealed by the rippling water speckled with lavender. He gives a quiet groan and glances between her and the bed calculatingly.  
  
"I... believe you are likely warmed through," he says. And though it seems a bit of a waste of the bathwater, she steps eagerly from it into the bathsheet he holds out to her, and laughs as he wraps her in it and tenderly dries her body before he finally leans down and presses his lips searingly to hers.  
  
And wisely, elsewhere in the house Mary opts not to visit Charlotte's rooms just yet, and subtly suggests her husband ought to let their guest rest when he thinks of doing so.  
  
And though the snow falls thickly in the windowpane, Charlotte's body is rapidly set on fire, tangled up in the arms and the heart of a man she knows with renewed fervour that she must savour in each moment against the backdrop of the changing fortunes of time.  
  
Life can sometimes be thin ice, but with him, her feet have found solid ground.


End file.
